


finale

by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes



Series: understanding [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, i wanted to tag it as such even though its not like, its basically a choose your own adventure!!, major character death but only kind of, well its HARD TO EXPLAIN lksdfjlksdj sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes/pseuds/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes
Summary: In another world, Jaskier lives to be a thousand. They stand together, side by side, arms linked against the tide of change and chaos.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: understanding [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603279
Comments: 122
Kudos: 964





	finale

**Author's Note:**

> basically: you choose :)

1.) 

In another world, Jaskier lives to be a thousand. They stand together, side by side, arms linked against the tide of change and chaos.

In another world- a kinder world, maybe- Jaskier is sweet and carefree and that’s it. He is a lovely bard singing lovely songs, and he has known no melancholy. 

That is not how this world works. 

Geralt buries Jaskier on a rainy February afternoon. He has traveled far to find this field of flowers, Jaskier wrapped in his own cloak like a shroud. So quiet, so pale, so limp. Geralt has cleaned him the best he can and still there are traces of blood in his fingernails. 

(He is young, still, although there is some age in his face- his skin is still soft, his hair is still shining. Lovely, lovely, lovely, even though death is ugly.  _ His _ death was ugly. Geralt could’ve stopped it. He could’ve-)

A silent journey, Jaskier at his side for the last time. He’d walked, allowing his bard to ride Roach- he can imagine the laugh that would get, bitter and still somehow cheery as ever. “So that’s what I had to do,” he’d say, and he’d flash Geralt that grin. “So I had to die- maybe I should’ve done that sooner, then.” 

He wishes-

He wishes. He wishes a lot of things. He wishes that he had noticed, had seen, had known. A conversation from years past remembered. Geralt has seen so many die but he had wanted, wanted, wanted Jaskier to stay. He had  _ needed _ Jaskier to stay. He doesn’t know what to  _ do _ .

Geralt buries Jaskier on a rainy February afternoon. He has traveled far to find this field of flowers, Jaskier wrapped in his own cloak like a shroud, and he lowers him oh so gently into the grave he’s dug right in the middle and does not cover him back up for a long while.

His body is very small, very human, very fragile, and Geralt still has those arms tightly wrapped even though he knows it won’t do any good anymore. The blood has dried to rust and is still on Geralt’s face and hair, because he can’t bear to wash it. His lute is in one clenching hand. He is still hoping, even now, for a miracle that will not come.

Geralt can’t remember the last time he cried, but he is crying. He is crying, and he is wishing, and he is standing in a field of flowers all alone but for a dead man and a horse, screaming at the sky. So many things in life are unfair but this seems like the worst of it all, a slap in the face, a snuffing of the single bright part of his life. What is he without his bard? A Witcher, inhuman, lonely to his core. A spot of nothing, taking and killing. A cold void. Jaskier had been his sun. Jaskier has taken himself away. 

-

2.)

In another world, Jaskier lives to be seventy. He dies in his sleep, and Geralt has loved him until the end. They travel together to a field of flowers- “morbid,” Jaskier tells him, still laughing after all these years- and they sit together in the sunshine, and when Jaskier closes his eyes he does not open them again.

It is expected. It rips at Geralt’s chest and at his soul but it is expected and Jaskier has died happy, in his arms, grey haired and soft. They have lived a life together, full and perfect. They have a bed of their own, something that Jaskier had always marveled at, and they still travel but it’s always together. 

Geralt is on his own now but Jaskier will always, always be with him. He has left himself burned into Geralt like a brand. He is in the Witcher’s bones, twenty years old and chattering away, sixty and softened and looking at Geralt like he’s the only thing in the world. He is kisses in the morning, good natured fights, sanding all of Geralt’s sharp edges. People are not afraid of the Witcher when he comes around, because being afraid of him is being afraid of a love song sung by their mothers. He kills their monsters and he is welcomed as a hero. 

They have lived a life together. Geralt has watched him change and grow and age, still singing, still lovely. He has pressed kisses into that brow so many times that the feel of it is as familiar as Jaskier’s hand in his, and his last one is just the same as always. Peaceful, gentle. Wet with his tears this time, but that’s fine. Jaskier had died happy and that’s all he needs.

Geralt buries Jaskier in the sun. He is standing in a field of flowers and he is not alone because he will always have his bard. 

-

3.)

In another world, Jaskier is young and lovely, sitting in Geralt’s lap. They have been traveling together for twenty years and loving each other for ten when Geralt smooths a rough finger over a plump cheek and says: “wait.” 

Silly. Jaskier laughs at him in bright peals, pressing his face into Geralt’s shoulder and holding on for dear life. 

“Witcher,  _ really _ ,” he says, bright as the sun, bright as anything. “Really, how has it taken you this long to see?” 

Geralt looks, and he sees smooth skin, full lips. No wrinkles, no crows feet, his hair still lush and dark as ever. He has seen this a thousand times and never given it a second thought, but now he thinks, rolling it over and over in his head, and he finds that he doesn’t understand. “You should be older,” he says, slowly, and Jaskier begins to laugh again, and Geralt begins to feel relief bloom hot and sweet in his belly although he doesn’t quite know why.

“I am older,” Jaskier says- that smile, those eyes. Still exactly the same. “You’re not the only one who’ll live forever, Witcher.” 

(Later, they talk- Jaskier’s grandmother was an elf, all those many years ago, and Jaskier had grown up unknowing. He had already been traveling with Geralt when they had passed through his hometown and he had returned, somewhat reluctantly, to question his parents, and when they told him- well. He had noticed his youth sticking around anyways and had decided it might be a wonderful experiment to play on Geralt. Geralt will be angry, when he hears this, and Jaskier will laugh and tell him that they have all the time in the world for that.

For now, though, he holds his bard tight, tight, tight to his chest. He has been thinking about how to let go for nearly as long as he’s known Jaskier, and the weight of that off his shoulders is-

Well. He will have Jaskier forever, and nothing could make him happier.

Fights and kisses and grumpy morning silences until always.)

In another world, Jaskier lives to be a thousand. They stand together, side by side, arms linked against the tide of change and chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> well! so firstly im sorry to the anon who requested the finality of major character death, but i am soft, emotionally speaking, so i just. had 2 give myself options 
> 
> if you liked this pls shoot me an ask over at redjewelsforeyes.tumblr.com 
> 
> also if you liked this leave a comment! they are a soft, worn scrap of my lover's handkerchief to rub against my cheek- sometimes i imagine there is still the smell of them on there, although they are long since gone
> 
> on a serious note: please, please, please take care of yourself all of you and i love you


End file.
